Shattered Image
by Mertiya
Summary: Rogue is having problems. For one thing, nightmares. For another, she's in love with Logan who's in love with Jean who's married to Scott. But now Logan seems to be noticing her. What lengths will she go to to break the touching barrier?


Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own X-men, blah, blah, blah.

A/N: I never really found out what happens to Carol Danvers, primarily because I haven't read many of the comics, so this is my take on it. Also, I know this in the movie section, but Rogue is a little closer to the comic book Rogue, because she's about twenty. This is the sequel to two of my other stories, Reborn and Shades of Gray; I didn't post them together because I wrote them as separate stories and they have different main characters.

**Shattered Image**

_Rogue felt the heady, tingling sensation of power rushing to her head, creating the adrenaline which thrilled her limbs. Laughing and yelling mockingly, she grabbed Carol's hand, bare skin on bare skin. Carol yelped slightly, looking up at Rogue in consternation. "What do you think you're doing?" she cried, although Rogue could not be sure whether the woman was speaking aloud or Rogue herself were simply picking up thoughts. Carol fell to her knees, but still Rogue held on, and on, and on…Carol collapsed, and Rogue, suddenly frightened, backed away. _What have you done to me! _part of her brain screamed. To her horror, she realized it was Carol speaking, not herself. She hadn't just stolen Carol's memories and powers. She'd stolen her very essence as well._

Rogue sat up in bed, heart thumping almost painfully. The memory was still there, as clear as it had been when the thing happened. When she'd stolen someone's powers, memories, maybe even life, permanently. She threw back her covers and went over to the window to get a breath of fresh air.

She stared out, letting a cool night breeze caress her face, washing away the dreadful images of her dream. It could not wash away her guilt, though. Rogue was saddled with a dreadful guilt about what she had done to Carol. She would probably have to bear that burden until she died, she realized with a sick feeling. She tried to excuse herself, reminding herself she was young and misled, but still the sick feeling remained. _Why did I hold on so long? Why didn't I let go?_

She was standing there berating herself when a hand dropped onto her shoulder. Rogue had been wearing a tank-top, for it was a warm night, and the hand contacted a generous amount of bare skin. She felt the pressure of the hand and of the mind, sensing a thought as well. _Rogue's lookin' pretty tonight—oops_…the hand was withdrawn quickly and Rogue whirled around, though she already knew who to expect. Logan was standing behind her, looking sheepish and slightly dazed.

"Logan, are you all right?" Rogue demanded.

"Sure, darlin', don't worry 'bout me. Just as long as there ain't no stray thoughts of mine bobbling about in your head."

Rogue decided not to tell him about the one she had sensed so briefly. She just shook her head.

"That's a relief," Logan said. He was short, only about half a head taller than she was herself, and he had a rather stocky build. His hands, falling at his sides, gave no indication of the adamantium claws that resided within them. Rogue wished again that her power had not forever barred her from intimate contact. She liked Logan—a lot. Not that she'd ever tell him so. He was hopelessly in love with Jean Grey Summers, Scott's wife, much as Rogue was hopelessly in love with him. It was a moot point, at any rate, her power making such idle speculations impossible.

"Why did you come in here in the first place?" Rogue asked Logan.

"You were screaming, and I figured you could use a little company."

"I was? Oh…I was having a nightmare."

"Carol Danvers?" he asked softly. She nodded, sighing as she did so. "Why did I do it, Logan? Now I can never be free of my guilt."

Gingerly, Logan rested his hand on her head, careful to touch only the hair. "S'okay, darlin'. You were a hell of a lot younger then. Now you're older and wiser."

"Older, maybe, sugar," Rogue replied, with a tearful laugh. "But not wiser."

Logan just shook his head, murmuring, "'Course you're wiser, darlin'."

Rogue smiled at him. "Thanks for comin' in and trying to make me feel better. I better go back to sleep, though."

"Sure thing, darlin'." He took a look at her sad face and said, "You know what you need, Marie?" It was startling to hear him call her by her real name, not by her pseudonym.

"What do I need?" she asked.

"You need a hug, darlin'." He held out his arms. A thrill like an electric shock ran through Rogue's whole body. He wants to hug…me? He wants to hug…me. She moved forward into his outstretched arms and pressed her face against his chest. Gingerly and carefully, Logan put his hands on her back, careful not to touch her bare skin. It was several minutes before he released her. Rogue felt light-headed, but was determined not to show it.

"See you in the morning, sugar," she said hesitantly.

He nodded and grinned at her as he left.

At lunchtime, Rogue saw Logan looking in her direction. _Is he looking at me?_ she wondered, but heard a laugh behind her and turned. _Oh._ Jean and Scott Summers were sitting at the table. Jean cradled her baby in her arms and smiled at Scott. _Why doesn't Logan just give up? _Rogue wondered unhappily. _For Heavens' sake, Jean is married, has a son, and is back from her honeymoon already._ Somebody tapped Rogue on the shoulder. She turned around and found herself looking at Logan.

"Oh, hi, Logan," she said, flustered.

"So, uh, how about a little Danger Room practice together? On the lowest setting," he added, hurriedly.

"Oh…okay, sure," Rogue replied, bemused. He took her gloved hand in his and led her away.

The Danger Room, even on its lowest setting, was a good workout. Rogue practiced dodging and hitting the drones programmed to attack her. She hadn't been tagged yet, but she was tiring slightly by this time, and she still had about eight drones to go.

"Need some help, Rogue?" Logan inquired, coolly swatting the last of his drones with his adamantium claws. Although she was breathing hard, Rogue shook her head, downing two more drones with a knock from her fist. Finally, one of them flew in from behind, zapping her in the back.

"Yowch! Oh, hell!" Rogue swore, turning to knock it out of the air as well. But she was fatigued, and the shock and the fact that Logan was leaning on the wall, looking at her, cost her her concentration. She missed the drone and was tagged by another one, went after that one and was tagged again. The drones were merciless. The more Rogue tried to hit them or avoid them somehow, the more impossible it became for her to do so. Finally, she was just spinning in midair, throwing her arms out blindly. She could feel her vision dimming, hear Logan's shouts. Her last thought was, _The professor is going to be so disappointed in me._

When Rogue woke up, she found she was staring into a familiar blue-furred face—Hank McCoy, one of the school's two doctors. "What happened?" she asked weakly.

"You have been unconscious."

"I kind of figured that."

"You blacked out in the Danger Room, darlin'," Logan said from near the bed.

Hot shame flooded Rogue's face as she remembered. "I can't believe I did that!"

"Steady now," said Hank, also known as the Beast. "You overtaxed yourself. You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

"No," Rogue admitted, shame-faced. "I haven't. I've been dreaming about…about Carol Danvers."

"I see. I suspected something of this nature."

"Why?"

"Well, you were moaning, 'No, I didn't mean to, please forgive me, Carol,'," in your sleep.

"Oh," Rogue blushed again, even more embarrassed.

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?' Logan asked. Rogue looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "Yes, Logan, it really is."

"Well, what say we go out to a movie tonight to help you forget about it?"

Rogue's face split into a small smile. "Yes, thanks, Logan, that sounds great," she agreed.

It was a good movie, a romantic comedy. Rogue felt in need of a little light fun for a while. For some reason, she just couldn't dismiss the thought of Carol Danvers from her head. Halfway through the movie, Logan put his arm around her, and she snuggled her head against his shoulder. This was as good as it was going to get, she thought despondently. If only she had been born with some other power, or at least the ability to turn hers on and off at will. Or had even just found some way of containing the power for part of the time.

Near the end of the movie, Logan turned to Rogue. She turned her face to him, saw him bending toward her. Her lips puckered, and for one beautiful half-second she thought he was going to kiss her. Just before they connected, however, Logan drew his head back, his face a mask of unhappiness. Rogue dropped her eyes to the ground, full of shame at what could have happened had they gone through with the kiss.

"I'm sorry, Marie," Logan said softly, using her given name. "I don't want to hurt you."

Rogue got up, feeling the tears flooding her eyes, and murmured a series of insincere apologies as she made her way to the door of the theater.

When she made it out, finally, she realized that it had grown dark, and she began to run blindly, not knowing whither she was going, just trying to escape. _Escape what? _she wondered dully. What was there to escape, except herself? And she could never do that, no matter how hard she tried.

"Rogue! Marie! Stop!" it was Logan's voice. Rogue half-turned to return to him, to concede defeat, when a thought made her pause. That metal that had brought Jean back to life—the metal at Alkali Lake. It mutated powers. Maybe it would enable her to have a different power, to change her way of life, something, anything more than this dull half-existence she had known since she was in her teens.

Unthinking, she leaped into the air, stretching her arms to catch herself as she took off. She heard the screams and cries of the people around her, and she heard a despairing yell that escalated almost into a howl, "Rogue, noooooooooooo!" And then she was up, flying, gone.

Rogue banked in for a smooth landing at the shore of Alkali Lake. Even at night, the blue waters were serene, unruffled. _I wish I felt like that_, Rogue thought bitterly. She was wondering how she was going to get far enough beneath the water to grab some of the metal. _If I fly up to gain height, and then plummet like a diver, I might be able to do it—as long as I get a good, deep breath before I start._ She raised her arms above her head and shot into the air, higher, higher, and higher still until she was high above the treetops. She turned herself over in mid-air, positioning herself carefully, and then let herself drop. The ground rushed toward her, faster and faster. She just had time to gasp a lungful of shockingly cold air before her arms struck the water and she plunged in and down.

The black water was colder than she had anticipated, and it dragged at her. Her ears rang with the pain of deep pressure. Rogue seriously hoped that the lake wasn't that deep, or it wouldn't be Jean's reviving body cast to the shore, it would be Rogue's lifeless one. Just when she thought her ears would burst from the pain, a finger touched the bottom. She reached her hand out, opened it, pushed forward. Her hand closed around something, but it was too dark to see what it was. She could only hope it was the metal. Kicking desperately to turn herself around, she shoved against the bottom as hard as she could.

The water seemed endless, and Rogue's powerful kicks were growing feeble. There was nothing but blackness all around, blackness and no air. She began to get an inkling of what Jean had gone through. Air spewed from her mouth in bubbles. Her thoughts were fading now. Vaguely, she wondered what Logan would say if she turned up drowned by the shore of the lake. Would he try to revive her, using her own power? And if it didn't work, would he cry? Or would he just turn away, pretend he didn't care for her…?

As the last of these unpleasant thoughts crowded into Rogue's mind, she burst through the surface of the lake, gasping for air. She coughed and gulped and choked, weakly treading water until she regained her strength. She swam slowly back to shore and dragged herself out. She found herself staring down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her head. "So the X-man arrives," Magneto sneered.

Logan ran to Professor Xavier. The Professor was in his study, pouring over some notes, and was somewhat surprised to see Logan burst through the door, gasping, "She's gone!"

"What? Who's gone?" Xavier asked in astonishment.

"Rogue! The movie—I didn't—and then—" Logan was too excited and worried to speak properly.

"Explain calmly, Logan. What precisely did occur?"

"I—I took Rogue to see a movie. To stop her worrying about Carol Danvers. And then I was going to kiss her, but I didn't want to her hurt her, so I didn't. And she got up and ran out, and by the time I got out, she'd took off."

"Taken off," the Professor said absently, as he mulled over Logan's story. "I'll use Cerebro to track her, all right, Logan?" Logan nodded, anxiously. "You'll find her, won't you?"

"I shall do my utmost. If she is alive, I will find her."

He shouldn't have coached it in quite those terms. For the first time since the Professor had known him, Logan went pale with worry. "She's alive. She's gotta be alive!" he muttered, half to himself. The Professor led him toward Cerebro.

Rogue was bound to a tree, helplessly frightened and infuriated as Magneto stood over her, tickling her exposed chin with a long, sharp knife.

"You have no idea how much trouble it was to get you to come here," he sighed, pressing the knife slightly harder, so that a trickle of blood ran from Rogue's chin and down her neck.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rogue snapped angrily.

"I think you should meet one of my newest recruits. Rogue, this is Tessa. Tessa, Rogue."

A small woman garbed in black, with hair almost as dark, smirked at Rogue from behind Magneto. Magneto placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tessa is a telepath. Oh, not as strong as Jean Grey Summers, but strong enough to do the job."

"What job?" Rogue rasped, trying to form the words without jabbing her chin onto the outstretched knife.

"Why, the job of luring you here, my dear Marie."

"My nightmares…" she glanced at Tessa in horror. "It was you!"

"Well, Tessa provided the link, but it was someone else who gave you those nightmares, my dear. Someone whom I think you know very well indeed. So well, in fact, that she is, shall we say, still a part of you."

"What?" Rogue gasped, a dreadful foreboding forming in her mind. Magneto stepped aside, swirling his cloak, to reveal a woman with curly blond hair and angry green eyes—Carol Danvers!

"Carol? I thought you were—"

"You thought I was what? Dead? Oh no, my dear Marie, I am very much alive." Her face hardened. "But I have no powers. You stole them from me when you tried to steal my life."

"I-I'm sorry, Carol, I was wrong, I was young, I didn't mean to—"

"Save your apologies," Carol snapped. "I don't want to hear them."

Magneto stepped in. "Allow me to interrupt," he said smoothly. "Carol, I leave Rogue in your tender care. Rogue, thank you for this metal. I have worked for a long time to obtain it. Oh, and tell dear Charles that I am much obliged to his student Kitty for inadvertently freeing me from my prison." He swirled his cloak about him and walked away. Carol approached Rogue, her face a mask of pure hatred.

"Carol," Rogue whispered. "Carol, what has he done to you? What have I done to you? You are—were my friend. I'm sorry, so very sorry."

"Sorry won't give me back my powers, fly-girl," Carol flared.

"I-I would if I could," Rogue ventured, though she knew how much the loss of these powers would cost her.

"Well, you can't. We were friends, Marie, but turnabout's fair-play. You took my powers, so now I am going to take your life."

"I've found her, Logan. She's at Alkali Lake."

"Alkali Lake? What in blazes is she doing there?" Logan exclaimed. Suddenly, his face went white. "Oh, no," he said softly.

"Logan?"

"That mutating metal. She wants it to change her powers so she doesn't have to cut herself off from everybody forever."

"I believe we should hurry down. I am reading another person within a few feet of Rogue."

"Who?" Wolverine asked curiously.

"Carol Danvers."

"Carol D—! That's not possible!"

"Nonetheless, that is what Cerebro is indicating. I believe we should hurry. Alert Scott, Ororo, Henry, and the rest—and make sure Jean does not come with us."

"Why shouldn't she come wi—oh."

"Yes. Oh," the Professor nodded. "_Go_, Logan!"

Rogue could feel a cold sweat trickling down her forehead. "Carol, please, I'm your friend."

"Correction," Carol's eyes burned with an almost maniacal light. "You _were_ my friend. That was before you destroyed me."

Rogue bit her lip, tried to steady her breathing. "Fine, Carol, kill me," she said, though her heart ached at the thought of Logan.

"What? No pleas, no moans, no cries for mercy, just 'kill me'?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Rogue snapped, repulsed. "Go down on my knees and grovel before you? In case you hadn't noticed, I can't. I'm tied to this damned tree."

"Oh, yes, poor, little Marie," Carol crooned, softly, drawing a knife from her belt. "Poor, little Marie all tied up and helpless."

She scratched the blade sharply across Rogue's cheek, drawing blood.

"Listen, sugar, you aren't goin' to get much revenge by killing me like this!"

"Well, what do you suggest I do? Loose you so that you can take to the trees, fly away like a pretty little birdie?"

"This isn't fair," Rogue ground through her teeth.

"Well, life isn't fair. Should death be?" She drew back the knife, and Rogue saw to her horror that it was poised above her stomach. Carol didn't just want her dead. She wanted her to die painfully, agonizingly hurt.

"Stop!" she cried feebly.

"What do you want, Marie?"

"Wouldn't it be more satisfactory if you defeated me in a fight?" Rogue gabbled desperately.

"I can't let you go. You'd use MY powers, and be out of here faster than an arrow from a bow. I'm not dumb, Marie."

_Not dumb, but I think you might be insane_, Rogue thought to herself. "You could put one of those collars on me, those things that suppress mutants' powers." Suddenly something hit Rogue like a thunderbolt. The collars! As long as she wore one, she couldn't hurt Logan. A groan burst from her lips as she realized that that had been the solution all along. She hadn't needed to come here, to be captured by Magneto, to be put at the mercy of the maddened Carol Danvers. But it was too late now for regrets. Carol pursed her lips. "Oh, all right," she said finally. She turned to leave.

"I'll be right back!" she called over her shoulder. Then she turned and added in an impish half-whisper. "Don't go anywhere."

"Why does the super-villain ALWAYS say that?" Rogue muttered to herself, as much to keep her spirits up as anything else.

Carol returned a few minutes later to fit the collar on Rogue. Rogue felt slightly sick as Carol brought out a knife and handed it to her. Carol then slashed the ropes and grinned in a way which was reminiscent of Wolverine. "Begin," she smiled.

Rogue slashed at the knife, hoping to disarm her opponent, but found Carol already blocking her and stabbing at her stomach. Rogue jumped backwards out of the way with comparative ease, but she was shaken. This was no cinch, and no Danger Room exercise either. If she died here, she really died.

Carol attacked ferociously, driving Rogue backwards. It was not just that she was more skillful, for they were fairly equally matched, but also that Rogue was hampered by not wanting to kill Carol, but Carol's eyes burned with bloodlust, and a hunger for revenge.

Carol had Rogue backed up against a tree. Rogue slashed hard at Carol again, with a twisting motion, and, almost to her surprise, Carol's knife flew out of the woman's hand. Rogue pressed the advantage, holding her knife at her opponent's throat, backing her into the tree.

"What? Aren't you going to kill me, Marie?" Carol mocked. Rogue shook her head. "Oh, I don't need to kill you, sugar. I'm just going to tie you up, nice and easy and—aaah!"

Carol had whipped out a second blade, heretofore concealed, and slashed Rogue across the stomach. She put out a foot and knocked her adversary to the ground. "Too bad, Marie, you made your last bad call."

Rogue's breathing was painful. She tried to hold her hand to the wound, to close it, to keep herself from bleeding to death, but she knew it was futile. The damage was too extensive. She saw Carol bending over her, a smile of triumph on her pale features. "Poor, little Marie. Is she dying? Are her wings clipped? Poor, little Marie."

Rogue swallowed hard, but choked as she vomited blood. Her vision was blurring now, and her breath was weak. Against all her will to live, against all her tireless fighting, she was going to die, before she even had a chance to really fall in love. "It's not fair," she whispered. Suddenly, Carol's visage disappeared from view. For half an instant, Rogue thought she was delirious, but then she heard Carol's cry of rage and frustration, and someone was bending over her, loosing her collar, easing her breathing. Logan pulled her into his arms, brought her lips to his. Yes, that was right, Rogue thought vaguely. She would die in his arms. How apposite.

And then, as the strength began to return to her muscles, the pain to recede, her mind to clear, she realized what he was _really _doing. _His healing power,_ she thought, dimly. _He's giving it to me._ She seemed to almost see an image of Logan's encouraging face in her mind, just before she blacked out.

When she came to, Jean's face was bending over hers, and Jean was shaking her shoulder, saying, "Rogue? Rogue? Are you all right?'

Slowly, blinking to clear her vision, Rogue nodded weakly—and memory came flooding back to her. "Carol! Logan! Where—what—how!"

"Shhh, it's all right, Rogue. Carol escaped with Magneto. Logan is recovering in the next bed."

"The collar! Jean, that collar!"

Mystified, Jean held it up for Rogue to see. "Here it is. Why?"

Rogue snatched it, activated it, and put it on. Then she took off her glove and grabbed Jean's hand, laughing at Jean's startled reaction, but close to tears. "Oh, Jean, don't you see? It blocks mutant powers!"

"Of course! Why on earth didn't I think of that? Rogue, this may solve your problem. Oh, of course, that's what you meant," Jean realized belatedly. Rogue surged out of bed and ran over to Logan's bed. "Logan!" she cried, and bending over him, she kissed him hard on the lips, reveling in her newfound freedom. Logan woke up and stared at her, uncomprehending. She released him, crying, "Oh, Logan, the collar!"

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he drew her face down to his, giving Rogue what she felt was the most perfect moment in her entire life. "Oh, Logan…" she murmured. Jean shook her head and snuck out of sickbay, chuckling to herself.


End file.
